Savor the Tomato

There are moments when life just feels a little overwhelming, when it feels hard even though I know it’s not. There are moments when I doubt what I am doing and why; when I wonder if I am just a happy hamster running around and getting nowhere.

But then, like a pot of gold at the rainbow’s end, I have ripe tomatoes. The birds did not get them; the squirrels did not get them; the blight did not get them. Red, ripe tomatoes grown in my back yard. They are almost too precious to cut into and eat, but I do. Uneaten, they will rot on the counter and that would be too great a waste.

I eat the smaller ones like an apple. They are tangy and juicy and taste like summer. The smell reminds me of my grandparents and my husband. I sense a connection with a long line of ancestors who grew their own food. This is how food should be. A reward for effort and diligence, a gift that grows through God’s miracle of seed and transformation, connecting me with the earth in a way that the ones on sale at Kroger can’t.

I slice and eat the large tomato on white bread with mayo and salt. I only eat white bread with tomatoes and cucumbers in an effort not to overpower their flavors with the flavor of the bread. There is something of childhood in the soft squares of white bread, a simplicity lost in the multigrain, nutty, textured bread I usually favor.

It’s a lot of emotions for lunch.

God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.” God saw everything he had made, and indeed, it was very good. Genesis 1:29,31.

Too often I go through the motions. I do what needs to be done without much thought. I lose myself in a book or a movie. I eat the food in front of me and talk to the people around me and remember very little of it. This simple meal of homegrown tomatoes reminds me to be fully present in every moment as I am in this one.

This food, these people, these tasks have meaning and purpose. Their stories are the culmination of generations of stories. Our interactions are woven into a tapestry that will ripple through future generations. Don’t breeze through it; don’t let it pass without giving it your attention. Somehow, the simple act of savoring this one tomato sandwich has slowed time for me, infused this moment with meaning, and shown me a purpose in my actions. I work in the garden so that I can savor this sandwich. I write this so perhaps you can savor this moment as well.

We are all so beautifully connected and interrelated, with each other, with those who came before us and those that will come after us, with the earth and everything on it. This moment may only be a drop of rain in a torrential storm, but without the individual drops there would be no rain at all.

I give thanks to God for this moment, this tomato, this opportunity to share His wonders with you. It is indeed very good.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits. Psalm 103:1-2

Love in Christ, Betsy